The Maleficar's Redemption
by J. APPLEGATE
Summary: They were all watching him like a ticking bomb, and he couldn't blame them. Countless mistakes and deaths weighed heavy on Jowan's shoulders. Blood magic and and assassination attempts paint a terrible image. He was undeserving of mercy or forgiveness. And that's why no one had expected the Right of Conscription, least of all him.
1. Right of Conscription

Jowan had never seen a Qunari.

True, he had seldom seen dwarves at the Circle Tower across the years. Human and elven mages, as well as Tranquil and templars, were the common occupants of Kinloch Hold. Yet he'd still seen two or three dwarves, and the number had risen since breaking his phylactery. But never had he encountered one of the bronze oxmen of the north.

And now, he was allies with one.

This particular Qunari, called Sten by the others, lacked the horns his race was known for. Kinloch Hold housed the grandest library in Ferelden, but none of its texts ever mentioned hornless Qunari. Granted, they were rarely mentioned to begin with. Sten was perhaps the most unique person in camp, even without the horns, but he shared a trait with nearly everyone else in the vicinity. This included Morrigan, the Witch of the Wilds; the scarlet-haired Orlesian bard, Leliana; and Alistair, the templar-trained Grey Warden.

They were all watching him like a ticking bomb.

Jowan couldn't blame them. He bore responsibility for the events in Redcliffe. It was Connor who summoned the demon, the demon that wrecked the village and assaulted its people using their resurrected corpses. But Connor became possessed trying to save his father—fallen ill by the poison Jowan had been sneaking him. He recognized parallels between himself and Connor. Both sought power from the Fade and lost more than the power was worth. The resemblances ended there, for Connor made his trade to help others. _And I only wanted to save myself by learning blood magic._

The stares from his camp companions had been earned, but the severity varied from person to person. Their eyes spoke clear messages ranging from "I wish you were dead" and "I want to kill you." The common theme of wanting him anywhere but here was the constant. He wouldn't be, if they'd had their way. Bann Teagan had demanded he remain in Redcliffe, to help watch Connor and contain the demon possessing him. More likely than not, he'd have sent Jowan to the dungeon again. The Arlessa could have tortured him again or outright killed him for revealing her share of the blame for Redcliffe's fate.

No one had expected the Right of Conscription, least of all Jowan.

His best friend in the world had stormed into the dungeon and stared at him like a foggy memory. Edmund Amell, a member of the too long a list of people Jowan had betrayed in the span of a month and a half. Ed must have known he'd have received severe punishment for aiding Jowan and Lily, had he not been conscripted.

Regardless, Ed had demanded Jowan's release into his custody. The two nobles had seemed adamant in refusing him every time, even with the Right of Conscription. Isolde refused to drop the argument. But her main defense was Loghain's banishment of Ferelden Wardens. Teagan, perhaps irritated she used him of all men to try to have her way, relented and allowed them to go.

"You plan on eating anything?" Edmund asked him, sitting down beside him on the soft dirt. A day had passed since hitting the road for the Circle Tower; two days remained before they'd reach their goal. Jowan hadn't eaten since long before then, and still hadn't, frozen in shock by his freedom.

Edmund asked the question again, and finally Jowan looked away from Lake Calenhad. Ed's Free Marcher origins were evident in his fair skin and close cropped whitish-blond hair. Spending most his life locked away from the sun had left him burned and peeling and freckling. His steel blue eyes gave off a sense of wisdom and maturity—a blatant lie, Ed oft proclaimed. He appeared the older of the two, thanks to being half a head taller than Jowan and sporting a full beard. In truth, Jowan was older than Ed's eighteen years by two summers.

"Why am I here?" Jowan asked, repeating aloud the question that'd ran through his head since his conscription.

"You said yourself you were tired of running and hiding from what you've done," Ed reminded him. "That you were going to try to fix your mistakes anyway you can. What better way to amend your crimes than by ending a Blight?"

Jowan thought for a second. What Edmund said was true, and Jowan had meant it. He approached the question from a different angle. "Why did you make me a Grey Warden? I'm the last person worthy of the honor."

"You aren't kidding," Alistair muttered nearby, bitter at the turn of events.

Ed shot his fellow Grey Warden a dirty look, then stood back up. "Come with me Jowan, so we can talk in private."

He did as asked, and the two mages skirted down the road. Their party was following the Imperial Highway but weren't actually on it. Loghain, as acting Regent in Queen Anora's name, had declared all Grey Wardens as traitors of the crown. He placed a bounty on their heads, captured or killed for what took place in Ostagar. Divided down the middle, the Bannorn believed Loghan or thought him mad and power hungry.

Jowan had fallen into the first lot. He hadn't accepted Loghain's offer simply as thanks for springing him from the templars. The Hero of River Dane had assured him Eamon had conspired with the Wardens and deserved punishment. No one would have ever known Jowan's involvement had things gone according to plan. Subtle assassination masked as illness would maintain Eamon's guise as a respected lord. There was no need to damage moral by revealing the "truth" about him. But Jowan would have known the good he'd done. That would have been more than enough.

Instead, he was a worse man than ever before. Edmund and Alistair rebutted Loghain's allegations. The Grey Wardens hadn't planned Cailan's loss, and that he might have survived had Loghain not withdrawn. Arl Eamon was just as guiltless, and now lay dying because Jowan had mixed fact with fiction.

"Firstly, I'm sure many people would not want to be in your shoes at this time," Edmund said once they stopped, insight of the camp but out of hearing range. "The Grey Wardens weren't as respected as they deserved _before_ being blamed for regicide. Now? Few would claim honor associating with the Order. Our treaties carry more respect than we do... at least we hope. We're going to put that faith to the test with the Circle of Magi while we're seeking aid for Connor."

"Not all believe Loghain's lies," Jowan pointed out. He wished he'd belonged to that bunch. "Bann Teagan clearly didn't. Word in Redcliffe Castle was that he was loudest in opposing Loghain's declarations."

"You're correct," Edmund admitted. "Which brings me to my second point: the Grey Wardens need to be rebuilt. Alistair and I are all that's left in Ferelden, so far as we know. We, the greenest of the Grey Wardens, are responsible for ending the Blight. Even if we don't know how to make you a real Grey Warden, Warden-Recruit is still technically a Warden."

"What exactly is a 'real' Grey Warden?" Jowan asked, cocking his brow.

"There's... more to being a Grey Warden than bending knee and making an oath to kill darkspawn wherever they may tread."

Jowan waited a moment for clarity, but it didn't come. The realization sunk in. "You can't trust me with the information, can you?" Edmund opened his mouth to speak but Jowan went on. "You don't have to make excuses. There's no need. I promised you and Lily both that the rumors of blood magic were false." Saying her name made him cringe; she was rotting in Aeonar because of his use of forbidden magic. He was free, and she was not. In the perfect world, their roles would be reversed. "Uldred promised I'd finally be ready for my Harrowing if I learned the basics! I was so frightened of Tranquility that I heard him out, and who would know best than my own teacher?"

He hadn't exaggerated. Jowan's last use of blood magic had been in Kinloch Hold. He hadn't practiced it after that day. But an understanding of blood magic must have unlocked something inside him. Tutoring Connor had shown him his newfound capabilities. Spells and entire schools of magic, once well beyond Jowan's grasp, were suddenly easy to muster. His connection to the Fade had strengthened too, granting him a deeper mana pool to draw from.

There was dead silence between the two mages, and Jowan wasn't sure why. Edmund had been on the edge of saying something before the rant, and now his face expressed worry. "Uldred is a blood mage?" he finally uttered.

"I..." _Good going, Jowan, you just betrayed your teacher. You really needed to expand the list of people who have every right to hate you._ "He is... but only for the same reason as I am! He told me was the weakest in all his classes, and the last to take his Harrowing. Uldred learned blood magic from a demon, and overnight he went from lowly apprentice like me to... well, he compared himself to you."

"The difference is, I didn't consort with demons," Edmund said, arms folded tight across his chest.

 _But I wanted to be like you._ "I don't condone what I've done and it's not excused. But Uldred has excelled thanks to his decision, and I hoped I would too. Freedom was worth any price... I had believed." Jowan lowered his head. "I know better now."

Edmund patted his shoulder. "There's no changing the past, Jowan, but you can change the future. You _are_ allowed to have regrets, so long as you strive to resolve them. Just... try to avoid papercuts, if at all possible."

"I swear I am done with blood magic."

"I know, Jowan." Edmund smiled. "I'm just trying to lighten the mood. I have a third reason for recruiting you, and it's the best one in my opinion."

"Oh?"

Edmund shoved his shoulder playfully. "I couldn't leave my best friend behind! You know I would have run away with you and Lilly if my phylactery hadn't been sent to Denerim."

"So... we're still friends?"

"Of course!" Ed exclaimed. "By the Maker, Jowan, we dreamed about leaving the Circle since the days when you were the taller one! Breathing fresh air, learning how to swim, seeing the world; maybe we didn't get out in the best manner, but we're out. You were scared of becoming a walking statue, and I might have done the same."

"You... you don't know how much it means to me to hear all that," Jowan said. His eyes were starting to sting, but he knew Edmund wouldn't let it die quietly if he cried. He'd teased him about the time Jowan burned his eyebrow off for ten years now.

"Until the others grow to accept you, you can handle me being the only one in your corner, right?"

"I can. After all, I'm used to it. You and Lilly were the only ones who ever believed in me. Even Uldred only took special notice of me because he caught me sneaking around after curfew."

Edmund's smile faded. "Uldred was in Ostagar. More likely than not, he perished there alongside most of King Cailan's army."

He sounded certain, but Jowan wasn't convinced. _I've advanced so much in my short time with blood magic. Uldred's known the art longer than I've been alive. He wouldn't go down easily._ Following his gut instinct had resulted in nothing but remorse and sorrow, though, so as terrible a consideration it was, maybe it would be best if Uldred had died. _Who knows how many blood mages he might have made during his time as an Enchanter. How many of them abused the power or became abominations?_

"I suppose you're probably right," Jowan said.

"Ah, well, at any rate, we should return to camp. We have a long day of walking ahead of us, maybe some bouts with darkspawn or bandits along the way."

Jowan snorted. "So everything's going to be just fine, then."

"Definitely," Edmund replied. "What's the worst that could happen at the Circle of Magi?"

* * *

 _A/N: This was written in response to the Minor Character Challenge for October, which Jowan was obviously the pick. I enjoyed doing this chapter and would love to continue on with following Jowan as a Warden-Recruit. But until then, thanks for reading and leave a review if you have the time!_


	2. The Circle of Magi

"Me?"

"Yes you, Jowan," Edmund confirmed. "We're the only ones who've been inside the Tower before. Knowing the layout just might save us from whatever problems there are."

Jowan hated the logic behind that. "And what if Greagoir decides I don't get to leave?"

"Worse things have happened," Sten grumbled.

"I won't let him," Edmund said, ignoring the Qunari. "You are a Grey Warden now, so you're above the Templar Order and the Chantry."

"That's not completely true," Alistair advised.

"He could perform blood magic right in front of the Knight-Commander and get away with it, couldn't he?" asked Edmund.

"Not that I would!" Jowan was quick to add.

A sour twist of his lips darkened Alistair's features, what Jowan could make of them at the late hour. "In theory, yes, but I wouldn't suggest testing the theory."

Jowan didn't reply. He'd already tested his luck once with blood magic, giving away the trick up his sleeve. Knight-Commander Greagoir and the other templars knew what he could do. Their training surpassed his heightened magical prowess tenfold, and he didn't even have a staff.

He nodded his reluctant approval to join the party heading to Kinloch Hold. The Circle of Magi wasn't open to random visitors. It isolated mages from the rest of the world, to protect them from non-mages and themselves. There was a reason the Circle Tower was on a lake, accessible only by rowboat. Jowan had needed steal one to get away.

But now the Circle Tower was under lockdown, and it was clear something had happened. The templar Carroll stood guard at the docks, preventing ferry to or from the Circle. A cookie bribe from Sten—a bizarre exchange—had earned them access to Kinloch Hold. But the boat was only so big, and not everyone could go.

"So who's coming with us?" Edmund asked, leaving an open invitation to anyone but Jowan. Maybe there was more to it than just familiarity with the location. The sooner Jowan proved he wasn't a threat, well, the sooner they'd quit seeing him as such.

Sten sneered at Kinloch hold with violet eyes. "I joined you to fight darkspawn. I will not find my atonement in the house of _saarebas._ "

 _Atonement? Sten's searching for forgiveness too?_ That Jowan could have anything in common with the quiet mountain of a man was a wild notion. Their view on darkspawn certainly differed. Sten had battled the tainted creatures and showed little concern for them. To him, darkspawn were just another foe. Jowan, now sworn to fight the Blighted beasts, was absolutely terrified. And he'd only encountered darkspawn in stories; the roads had been empty during the three day journey from Redcliffe to the Circle. Jowan was the only one in the bunch untested against the darkspawn. He prayed he wouldn't falter on the day that changed.

"You're half again the size of anyone else on the team," Edmund said to Sten. "Perhaps it's for the best we don't drop you into a tiny boat wearing heavy chainmail. Plus you can go looking for your sword while we're away." He was obviously trying to avoid Sten's slight on mages. Qunari treatment of mages made any Circle of Magi in Thedas a life of luxury by comparison. Templar abuse was not uncommon, but chains and collars were "proper" care for _saarebas._

Regardless, Sten nodded. Edmund turned to the remaining three party members and his mabari, Duke. "With our good friend Carroll steering, we're left two more spots on the boat. Who else wants to see the Circle of Magi?"

Morrigan spoke up and made the point moot. "I am not restricted to crossing the lake in a boat. And I will not miss out on an opportunity to examine the gilded cage mages condemn themselves to. There must be something attractive about oppression to draw in so many."

"A simple 'Alistair and Leliana can ride in the boat' would have sufficed," Ed droned. "Assuming you two want to go."

"Of course," said Leliana. "I am also intrigued to see the Circle Tower, though I wouldn't have worded it so... bluntly."

"And if there's trouble with the mages, one more templar couldn't hurt." Alistair studied the Tower, lacking the contempt Sten had displayed. "Even a disgraced templar who never completed his training. They must have some need of those."

 _If there's use for templars like that, then a mage like me could make a difference too._

They piled into the rowboat with Carroll, brushing the crumbs of his bribe away from his mouth. The five of them made for a tight squeeze, even with the bulk of their supplies left in their rented rooms at the _Spoiled Princess._ Jowan brought nothing but his soiled robe, small clothes, and leather boots. They pushed off the jetty, leaving Sten, Duke, and Morrigan on the shoreline. She walked away and disappeared into darkness. The giant and mabari were a gradual fade into obscurity as the boat glided across the water.

As they sailed, Edmund and Leliana chatted about the Circle. Alistair joined in when he could, but concentrated more on paddling in rhythm with Carroll. They were gathering as much information as they could, anything that might have importance. Jowan sat quiet in thought, having nothing to contribute that Ed wasn't telling them. He was doing his best not to have a panic attack. A known maleficar waltzing into the Circle of Magi was unheard of. Regulations likely commanded "kill on sight." Edmund's guarantee of protection meant little. _By Loghain's decree, Grey Warden lives are forfeit, just like a blood mage's—and I'm both._

Forcing his mind elsewhere, Jowan focused on the spire. He remembered the first time he saw it, five or six summers old. He'd been frightened by the the metal men bearing Andraste's Flaming Sword of Mercy. Father called them mage hunters, and hunters killed their prey. But the Circle Tower had left him in awe. In his village—the name long lost to him—the largest building had been the local chantry. Kinloch Hold was three times taller if not more. It was sleeker and born from the depths of Lake Calenhad, his imagination had assumed. The shattered bridge standing to this day had been a beacon of hope. Nearly inaccessible, young Jowan had believed the Tower was a safe haven. He would learn to control his magic in a place where he'd do no harm. Once he was ready, the metal men would let him return home to show his mother he wasn't an abomination.

"I was wrong," he whispered sadly.

"Wrong about what?" Edmund asked.

"It's nothing... just thinking out loud."

The boat reached the small dock at the base of Kinloch Hold some time later. Carroll ushered them out as fast as he could. "I don't want to be here when the Knight-Commander learns you're here," he explained in a rush. Jowan had barely set foot on dry land before the lyrium-addled templar made his retreat.

"Such bravery, these templars have."

Jowan jumped. Morrigan slithered into the moonlight, her daunting yellow eyes an unexpected surprise. There was no chance she could have swam faster than the boat, and she was bone-dry. He couldn't figure it out. "How did you get over here?"

"Blood magic is just one of several practices the Chantry deemed forbidden," she said. "My mother taught me a few of them."

"Shapeshifer," Edmund clarified.

"Wow..." Jowan failed at practical applications, but he'd developed an intense interest studying magic. Knowledge was power, even if he'd planned to put his then limited power aside to... to keep Lily safe. The Circle had no formal ban on the practice of shapeshifting; there was no need. All the texts on the subject said the art was lost ages ago, with no one left to teach or learn it, not even from demons. Uldred protested the secret had to still exist somewhere, possibly passed along by hedge mages or the Dalish. _He was right._

"The Chantry forbids those schools of magic for a reason, you know," said Alistair.

"You didn't protest when Mother plucked you and your fellow Grey Warden off the Tower of Ishal. Does the Chantry teach their devout to whine and snivel when their laws are broken lest something is gained?"

"No, I learned to whine and snivel all on my own, thank you very much."

"Perhaps we can continue this debate after we've secured help for Connor?" Leliana suggested.

Ed nodded. "I think that's a splendid idea." He didn't wait for Alistair or Morrigan to comment. He strolled up to the entrance of Kinloch Hold and knocked with his staff.

The response was slow, but eventually arrived. "Carroll, the Knight-Commander told you..." began a helmeted templar as he cracked open one of the doors. He trailed off once the five-member party was in view, three of them mages and no sign of Carroll. "What's the meaning of this? Who are you?"

"We're Grey Wardens," Edmund announced. "Half of us, anyway. We've come seeking allies against the Blight, as obligated by our treaty with the Circle of Magi."

"We also need mages and lyrium sent to Redcliffe," Alistair chimed in. "The lives of Arl Eamon Guerrin and his son Connor depends on it!"

"Then they are dead," said the templar. "The Circle of Magi is unable to deliver assistance at this time."

He started closing the door. Edmund slipped his metallic staff into the doorway first. "We at least deserve a better excuse than none at all."

"You'd better get going, mage," the templar warned. "Your kind has caused enough trouble already."

He reached to remove the staff from the opening. Edmund the Impulsive moved faster. He froze the templar's gauntlet to staff and door, the buildup of frost trapping all three in place. The templar called for backup and struggled to break free.

Edmund stepped back and faced the team. "Well, we have their attention now, for better or worse."

"I would not put high hopes on 'better'," Alistair said.

"If they take us prisoner, we'll discover what is happening to the Circle," Leliana said. Her Orlesian accent helped put a positive spin on the possibility of arrest. Jowan was almost fooled.

"'Twould not be wise for them to try," Morrigan mused.

The double doors burst open. Edmund's staff toppled over and rolled down the slight incline. Two more templars had appeared to help the first, and all three were staring at the party. In unison they cast a Holy Smite. Jowan's connection to the Fade wrinkled, sapping all the energy in his body to nothing. He started falling. The Smite his Edmund and Morrigan just as hard, but they had Alistair and Leliana to catch them. Jowan had no one, and doubted Sten would have done anything were he there. He slammed onto the ground, knocking the wind out of him.

A migraine swelled in his skull and the world was spinning. Jowan closed his eyes, hoping his rolling stomach wouldn't expel what little he'd eaten. He relied on his ears to paint a picture of the scene; most prominent was the crashing of steel on stone floor. A fourth templar approached the smiting trio. "We don't have the room to detain them." His voice was familiar and filled Jowan with dread. "There are more pressing matters than supposed Wardens. Toss them into Lake Calen—"

The senior templar faltered and his footsteps stopped. "Amell?" Then he fiercely added, _"Jowan?!"_

Scraping of a sword unsheathed beckoned Jowan to open his eyes. He listened, to his great misfortune. The situation he was in seemed ripped straight from his nightmares. Knight-Commander Greagoir, his face burning hot with unbridled fury, had his sword point aimed right at Jowan's throat.

"You shouldn't have come back," he spat.

* * *

 _A/N: I mentioned this story was born from a Minor Character Challenge. The challenge came from a Facebook group called the "Dragon Age Fanfiction Writers" group. It's open to anyone interested in the Dragon Age fandom and has six hundred members._

 _I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please leave a review if you did, or to leave some constructive criticism._


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